Together, Darcy and Fitzwilliam entered the room to the sight of a man sitting with Georgiana, speaking in a manner that seemed pleasant. Georgiana, it appeared, knew no harm of him, for if she did not take pleasure in his company, she seemed to at least accept him. Mrs. Younge, Darcy noted, sat nearby, though Darcy could not see from her expression what she thought of Mr. Wickham’s visit.
When he caught sight of them, Mr. Wickham rose and donned a wide grin, saying: “Fitzwilliam, old chap, it is excellent to see you again. And this must be Pemberley’s new master.”
Mr. Wickham regarded him with interest, and after a time, his lip curled in amusement. “I hope you will forgive me if I observe he is not nearly so intimidating as your cousin was. I cansee the potential for Darcy’s implacable mask of displeasure, but I suspect he will need to practice it for many months to perfect it. Perhaps a mirror would be an asset?”
“Georgiana,” said Fitzwilliam, saying nothing to the man, “it appears we must speak with Wickham in private. Please retire to your chambers or the music room. We shall send for you when he departs.”
Though it was clear Georgiana knew nothing ill of Mr. Wickham, she sensed her cousin’s anger at once and did not hesitate to obey. For her part, Mrs. Younge followed her at once, but not without a distasteful sneer for Mr. Wickham. In moments, they were gone, allowing Darcy to take stock of the man before him.
Mr. Wickham was a handsome man, his features what young ladies with nothing but a man’s looks in mind might swoon over. He stood a little shorter than Darcy, though his height was not insubstantial, boasted a full head of wavy, deep blond hair, blue eyes, and an open smile that Darcy at once labeled as cocksure. Darcy at once branded him smooth and self-assured, a man who talked much but said little, and with little attention to truth. Even if Darcy did not have Fitzwilliam’s assurances on the subject, Darcy did not think he would have trusted the man given his appearance.
“Well, Fitzwilliam, will you say nothing?” There was a hint of mocking in Mr. Wickham’s tone. “Perhaps you should introduce me to the new master of Pemberley, for it appears I must deal with him.”
“Glib to a fault, as always,” said Fitzwilliam, the mocking in his voice not hidden at all. “I shall do so, but only to ensure Darcy knows the snake in the grass before it strikes. As for anydealingsyou reference, they shall be of a short duration.”
Fitzwilliam performed the honors with an economy of words, though when he spoke of Wickham, he added: “Wickham is theson of Pemberley’s previous steward; if you recall, I spoke of Mr. Moore’s predecessor not long after you arrived.”
“Yes, I remember,” said Darcy.
“My connection to the Darcy family is much deeper than that,” said Wickham. “I was the protégé of Darcy’s father, the best man who ever breathed. He loved me better than his son to own the truth.”
“Do not make me laugh, Wickham,” snapped Fitzwilliam. “You and I both know that you werenotdearer to my uncle than his son, and the only reason he continued to count you as a friend is that my cousin did not see fit to inform his father of your depravity.
“Now, why have you come?”
“Why, to pay my respects to my patron’s son, of course,” said Wickham, affecting confusion. “After all, Iwasthe favorite of his father.”
“You should have stayed away,” rejoined Fitzwilliam. “Darcy made it quite clear that you are not welcome at Pemberley.”
“Yes, I well understand Darcy’s betrayal,” said Wickham, keeping his infuriating calmness, infused with scorn.
“The betrayal was all on your side. Now, state your reason for your presence before we have you thrown from the estate.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Wickham, his tone uncaring. “I came because Darcy owes me, and I intend to collect.”
“Your audacity is breathtaking.” Fitzwilliam glared at him. “Tell me, Wickham, what do you suppose my cousinowesyou?”
“The living at Kympton,” replied Wickham with complete unconcern. “As Darcy gave that boon to another, I shall accept a pecuniary reward in exchange for not prosecuting Darcy here for his cousin’s misdeeds.”
Fitzwilliam snorted and turned to Darcy. “If you check the safe in the study, you will find a contract, signed by our Wicky here, that details the transfer of three thousand poundsto him in exchange for his resignation of the living forever. It appears Wickham’s memory is deficient, for my cousin already compensated him for the living, which I will note was not even a bequest in my uncle’s will.”
“His impudenceisbeyond measure,” said Darcy, eyeing the man he now considered to be among the worst of men. “What I cannot determine is how he thought your cousin did not inform you of these transactions.”
“It did not even cross his mind,” snorted Fitzwilliam with disgust. “Even if Darcy had not made me aware of it, a simple question to Darcy’s banker would have cleared any confusion, as would an investigation of the documents my cousin kept in the safe.”
That Wickham was furious was not unexpected, nor did he take the trouble to hide it. Underneath, however, Darcy thought Wickham had expected to be rebuffed, which made the motive for his application even more curious.
“The moneyDarcypaid me was a pittance.”
“Three thousand pounds a pittance?” said Fitzwilliam.
“That is a handsome sum, indeed,” said Darcy, surprised his cousin had paid this cur off with such an amount. “It is perhaps double what any living is worth in ready funds.”
“As I told my cousin when he informed me of his dealings with Wickham,” was Fitzwilliam’s curt reply.
“It seems you are cursed with the same greed that beset Darcy,” spat Wickham. “I—”
What he might have said remained a mystery, for at that moment Fitzwilliam lost all patience with him.
